There are many romantic cities in the world, but Casey Chapel puts
Lisbon, Portugal near the top of the list. Visiting that city inspired her to
write her first story for Heart’s Kiss, “Count the Ways,” as did her
lifelong love of the poetry of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Now that she has
revisited Lisbon, she can’t wait to go to Paris, France—at least fictionally—in
her latest story for even more romantic adventures. This is her second
appearance in Heart’s Kiss.

LOST LUGGAGE

by Casey Chapel

Angie
Duquesne heaved her black hard-shell rollerboard suitcase into the trunk of her
rental car and chucked the lid shut. Her matching carry-on case and purse were
already on the back seat.

Hurriedly,
she marched around to yank open the front driver’s side door of the Citroen
compact and jump in behind the steering wheel.

At which
point she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Because, yes, she might have
had a lousy flight and customs experience, but this was still the first day of
her vacation, after all.

And nothing
could be too terrible if she was in France in the middle of June,
could it?

“Pastries,
wine, and cuisine.” She repeated it like a mantra, reminding herself of some of
the reasons she’d left her home in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania behind for a week. “Pastries,
wine, and cuisine.”

All that
mattered now was that she’d arrived. She was in the city of Nantes, about to
explore the Brittany region and enjoy the first real vacation she’d taken in
more than three years.

“Seriously.”
Angie pushed her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ears and plugged the key
in the car’s ignition. When she turned it, the engine rumbled to life. “You
need to chill out for a change, Angelina.”

Entering
the hotel’s address from her phone in the car’s GPS, she waited until the
device read out the first directions for her route, then backed out of the
parking space and headed into town.

Sure, she’d
had some bad luck, but she was healthy, twenty-nine years old, and things were
bound to look up soon. That was what she told herself just before she got stuck
in a road construction zone for half an hour.

***

At least
the hotel, when she finally got there, was wonderful. It was set in what had
once been a chapel, with lofty vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows in
the lobby. In keeping with the setting, the furnishings were minimalistic—yet
modern in color choice and design.

The clerk
at the front desk was young, blond, handsome, and friendly. He spoke perfect
English, which was good, because Angie spoke only a few phrases of French.

When she
stepped off the elevator at her floor, the hallway was narrow…but her room,
when she swiped her key in the slot at the door and stepped inside, was not a
disappointment. It had the same feel as the lobby, with high ceilings, gray
block walls, and Spartan furniture with splashes of color (purple, mostly).

“Thank God.”
Smiling, she wheeled in her cases and let the door fall shut behind her. “This,
I like.”

Finally,
Angie felt like her trip was on track. The day’s hassles had led her to this
reward—an awesome room in a hotel with unique character—and now she could relax
and get on with the fun.

Lifting the
big suitcase, she laid it flat on the luggage rack in the corner. “I need a
change of clothes so bad.” She frowned as she hunted for the zippers;
instead of at the end of the track on the bottom, where she always left them,
they were at the top of the case.

“Oh, well.”
She unzipped the case but didn’t open the lid. “I guess security must have
rifled through my stuff.”

Stripping
out of her clothes, she tossed them on a chair and took a shower, letting the
hot water revive her.

When she’d
finished drying off, and the world was looking about a thousand percent better,
she threw herself on the bed. The cool, silky sheets felt wonderful against her
body after the long day of travel.

Pittsburgh,
and her problems, were far away. That had been the whole point of coming here—to
escape, to not have to deal with the mess of her life for a while.

There would
be time enough when she got home in a week to pick up where she’d left off. Time
enough to figure out her next move now that YourWorld, the online business she’d
worked so hard to build, had gone under.

“Maybe
Brittany will inspire me.” That was her secret hope. After all, Brittany seemed
to be an inspirational kind of place. Even Nantes, her first stop, was known as
the hometown of the great author, Jules Verne.

“Speaking
of inspiration.” Rolling off the bed, Angie peeked between the window blinds at
the view. Across the street, a vast, green park sprawled behind wrought-iron
fencing, beckoning. “Time for a walk, I think.”

Excited at
the prospect, she went over and lifted the lid of the suitcase. Fresh clothes,
a stroll in the park, and dinner at a local bistro would keep any jet lag at
bay.

Or not.

“Wait.” At
first, what she saw in the suitcase didn’t sink in. She shook her head,
scowling, halfway convinced it couldn’t be real.

She didn’t
panic. After the day she’d been having, it all felt par for the course. Disappointing,
disheartening, disturbing, and par for the course.

“Now what
do I do?” Her first thought was to call the airline and see if someone else had
reported picking up the wrong bag…her bag. But what if the person with
her bag didn’t check its contents or report it right away? What if he was on
the move, getting farther away all the time?

Maybe she
could solve the problem sooner. Maybe she could reach the guy herself.

There was
no ID tag on the bag, but maybe she could find something inside. Carefully, she
lifted a solid green polo shirt from the suitcase and set it aside, then a
blue-and-grey striped one. Everything was folded neatly and well-organized; at
least whoever had packed the case wasn’t a slob.

He might
have been a businessman, though. Angie found a three-piece suit folded in the
zippered section inside the lid. It was black and single-breasted, with a
satiny tone-on-tone pinstripe running throughout.

She found
button-down shirts, too, stacked in the main compartment, plus neckties, pocket
squares, and dark socks. There were also tan khaki pants and shorts to go with
the polo shirts, so business wasn’t his only reason for traveling.

That was all
she knew about him…at least until she found the rubber-banded stack of business
cards zipped into a side pocket. She grabbed the stack, undid the rubber bands,
and raised the top card for a closer look.

Finally,
she was in luck. “Daniel Rivers.” That was the name in large type atop the
card. His title, under the name, read, “Owner, CEO, Impetuosity, Inc.”

Under that,
she saw a mailing address in Augusta, Maine and a phone number. “Bingo.” It was
just what she needed.

Grabbing
her phone from the desk, she dialed the number fast. “Please pick up, please
pick up.” Her heart pounded as she stood there naked, listening to the phone
ring. The success of her vacation hinged on what happened next.

She got
suddenly nervous when the ringing stopped. There was a voice on the other end
of the line, and her heart jumped—but the voice only belonged to a generic
voicemail recording.

“Hello,”
she said after the beep. “I seem to have your suitcase by mistake. Do you have
mine?”

Before she
could say another word, the phone rang. A number appeared on the screen—the
same number she’d just dialed for Daniel Rivers.

She touched
the button on the screen to switch calls and dropped off the voicemail line. “Hello?”
Again, her nervousness flared.

It only got
stronger when she heard a deep male voice coming through…and what he said. “Hello.
Is this the woman with the Super Girl pajamas?”

***

Angie’s
eyes widened, and she felt her face flush. He’d been pawing through her things!

But the good
news was…”You have my bag!”

“Bag?” Daniel’s
laugh was warm and low. “Sorry to disappoint you. I just have amazing mental
powers. I only found out about your pajamas by reading your mind
just now.”

Angie cleared
her throat. “Then I guess you must know what I’m thinking right now?”

“It has to
do with my pajamas, doesn’t it?”

“Not
exactly.” Angie dug around in the suitcase a bit. “Anyway, I don’t see any.”

“You mean
they’re missing? Did you borrow them, because you don’t have your own?”

“No, I…”

“Be my
guest, uh…what did you say your name was again?”

“You tell
me,” said Angie. “Unlike some people, I put a tag on my bag.”

“Right,
okay.” He paused. “Here it is! Ms. ‘Samsonite.’ What a pretty name.”

Angie
sighed. He was funny, but she was getting impatient. “I thought you said you
didn’t have my bag. And by the way, it’s the other tag.”

“Angie!” Daniel
sounded excited. “Now that is a pretty name.”

“Hey,” said
Angie. “I’m thinking up another thought for you. Can you tell me what it
is?”

“Hmm. You
think I’m hilarious and charming?”

“More like
I want to get my bag back. Aren’t you thinking the same thing?”

Daniel
chuckled. “What makes you think I want it back?”

“Then I
should just throw it in a dumpster?”

“I don’t
want you to go to any trouble,” said Daniel. “How about if I just take it off
your hands when I give yours back?”

“Sounds
like a plan. So where can we meet? I’m at the Hotel Oz in downtown Nantes.”

“Nantes? Really?”
Suddenly, he didn’t sound as flippant. “Wow.”

“What do
you mean, ‘Wow?’”

“I mean, ‘Wow,
I’m not in Nantes.’”

“Then where
are you?”

“A city
called Lyon,” said Daniel.

“Which is
how far away?” asked Angie.

“Let me
just say first, the following is not a joke. I swear I’m not pulling your leg
when I say what you’re about to hear.”

Slowly,
Angie sank onto the edge of the bed. The hope that had filled her when Daniel
had answered the phone was quickly draining away. Exchanging bags wasn’t going
to be so simple, after all.

“Angie?” he
said after a moment. “Are you still there?”

Angie took
a deep breath and let it out, then raised the phone to her ear. “So how are we
going to do this, then? How do we get our luggage to its rightful owners?”

“Good
question,” said Daniel. “What are your plans? Where are you headed?”

Should she
tell him? He was a stranger, after all…but she wanted her bag. “I’m exploring
Brittany. Starting in Nantes, driving up the coast to Quimper…then Brest,
Crozon, Morlaix, and on to Saint-Malo and Bayeux.”

“Ending up
in Normandy, huh? Great itinerary!” He sounded sincere, not joking around at
all now. “You’re going to love it.”

Was she? “Maybe
if I had my clothes.”

“You don’t
need them.”

“I’m not a nudist.”

“No, I mean…what
matters is you,” said Daniel. “The other stuff will work itself out.”

Angie had a
comment about mansplaining on the tip of her tongue, but she held it
back. She needed his help, after all…and, besides, something in his voice made
her think mansplaining probably wasn’t really his thing.

The more she
talked to him, in fact, the more she thought he was a nice guy.

“Could we
try, anyway?” asked Angie. “To work it out, I mean?”

“Absolutely,”
said Daniel. “Are you planning to go to Mont Saint-Michel, by any chance? It’s
on your way to Normandy.”

“Yes, of
course.” It was at the top of her list of places to see in Brittany.

“So when
were you planning to be there? According to your original schedule, that is.”

“Four days
from now,” said Angie. “Friday.”

“Hmm.” Daniel
fell silent for a moment. “Okay. I can meet you at Mont Saint-Michel in four
days. I can move some meetings around and be there next Friday.”

Four days? Without
her belongings? “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not at
all,” said Daniel. “You can buy some things en route if you have to. Heck, you
can even use some of mine, if you like.”

“Why not
just ship the bags?”

“Because we’ll
both be on the move,” said Daniel. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to
spend my time in France sitting around waiting for a bag to arrive.”

The more
Angie thought about it, the more she agreed with him. She hadn’t come all that
way and spent all that money to wait around for her suitcase.

“Hey, look.”
Daniel’s voice softened. “I know it’s not the ideal situation, but I think we
can make the best of it.”

“Maybe.”

“You can
even keep tabs on your stuff,” said Daniel. “You can call me and check on it
every day. Or I’ll call you. Then you’ll know I’m not running off with it and
disappearing. How does that sound?”

Angie didn’t
like it…except maybe she did, a little. There were worse things, she thought,
than talking to Daniel Rivers every day. It might not make up for not having
her things for a while, but it was bound to make her trip memorable.

“Okay,” she
told him. “You talked me into it.”

“Great,”
said Daniel. “Meet you at Mont Saint-Michel on Friday, Angie Duquesne.”

***

Pulling on
a pink t-shirt and gray yoga pants that had been stuffed in her carry-on, Angie
crossed the street to the park she’d seen from her window. The plan was to
forget about her luggage issue for a while…and the plan worked.

Lost in the
lush greenery of the park—the Jardin des plantes, it was called—Angie
did indeed stop thinking about her missing bag. The winding paths led her along
gently flowing streams, through rainbow gardens of bobbing flowers, under
nodding, emerald boughs. Birds fluttered and sang overhead, zipping from tree
to tree, and squirrels and rabbits scampered across the perfectly manicured
lawns.

The park
was full of surprises, too, that pushed her worries even further from her mind.
One path took her to a giant park bench, high enough for her to walk under with
plenty of headroom to spare. Further on, she found a garden of potted plants
mounted on wooden poles, each pot decorated with a beaked, birdlike face.

That was before
she strolled along a bend in the path and saw two giant eyes gazing at her from
what looked like a huge, buried head. Angie laughed when she saw those big eyes
and the top of that head, sculpted from carefully tended shrubs. According to a
sign, it was one of the “genies of the garden”…but it wasn’t the last, or even
the coolest, topiary figure she saw.

Further on,
she came upon a topiary sculpture of an enormous bird sprawled on its back,
wings tucked behind its green head as if it were taking a nap. Again, Angie
laughed at the clever creativity; her missing bag was the farthest thing from
her mind.

At least
until her phone rang, and she saw the familiar number on the screen.

“Yes,
Daniel?” As she answered the call, she hoped in her heart there might be some
kind of good news.

“Hi, Angie,”
said Daniel. “What’s up?”

“Just
taking a walk. There’s a botanical garden across from my hotel.”

“Is it
cool?” asked Daniel. “Cooler than what I’m doing right now?”

Angie got
an idea and grinned. “You be the judge.” Switching the phone to camera mode,
she snapped a shot of the giant green bird, then sent it via text to his
number. It flew from her outbox with a whoosh.

Seconds
later, Daniel chuckled. “Hey, that is cool.”

“I know,
right? This park is full of cool stuff.”

“But is any
of it as cool as this?” The phone dinged as a photo arrived from Daniel.
“I mean, seriously.”

As soon as
Angie opened the message, she laughed out loud. “Oh my God!”

“Don’t look
now,” said Daniel, “but your better half seems to be having more fun
than you are.”

The phone
shook in Angie’s hand as she kept laughing. Her suitcase was in the foreground
of the photo, with a giant pair of white horn-rimmed novelty sunglasses perched
on top of it. Behind the suitcase, climbing toward a bright blue sky, were the
lofty towers of a cathedral.

“Sue the
suitcase says she wants to go to the Basilica of Notre Dame de Fourvière
next,” said Daniel, “but I have a meeting. This is mostly a business
trip, after all.”

“What are
you going to wear?” asked Angie. “I have your suits and ties.”

“Wait, I’ll
show you.” There was a pause, then another ding from the phone.

When Angie
saw the photo he sent—a shot of a dark-haired, bearded man in his thirties
wearing her blue-and-red Super Girl pajama top—she cracked up.

“That’s
you?” Angie forced out the words between laughs.

“Yes, and
as you can see, the outfit is perfect for me. Not to mention, it’s
perfect for my meeting. After all, I’m here to make deals for my business,
which is all about being impetuous. It’s called Impetuosity, in
fact.”

“You’re
right, it’s perfect!”

“If you
think that’s cool, wait till you hear what I’ve got on underneath!” said
Daniel.

That left
Angie, still laughing, to stare at his photo on her phone. Now that she had a
look at him, even wearing her pajama top, she was impressed. His short black
hair and beard were neatly trimmed, his eyes dark brown, his jaw square. His
face looked kind and friendly, yet strong; his shoulders were broad, his chest
and arms muscular without being musclebound.

As she went
on staring, she remembered seeing him on the flight over—first at the gate,
then sitting in first class as she’d passed on her way to Economy. He’d caught
her eye then, but now, she liked him even more. Not only was he handsome, but
he had a great sense of humor.

Even from a
distance, she knew she liked him. Even with her trip through Brittany ahead of
her, she looked forward to meeting him in person at Mont Saint-Michel.

***

The next
day, putting on the last spare outfit she’d brought in her carry-on—a striped
blue-and-white sweater over a white button-down top and slacks—Angie checked
out of her hotel and headed north and west to the Atlantic coast.

It was the
perfect day for a drive along the shore. The skies were clear, and the sun
shone bright, making the colorful scenery look even more breathtaking.

Leaving the
highway behind, she drove two-lane coastal roads to small towns perched on
rugged cliffs overlooking the ocean. She wound her way down to sparkling blue
harbors filled with fishing boats, circled by hungry gulls.

She spent a
little time in the town of Vannes, getting out of the car to explore the city
walls and the vast Château de l’Hermine, a historic mansion with beautiful
gardens.

Further on,
she visited Lorient, the great port crowded with fishing and cargo ships. She
also stopped at Concarneau and Riec sur Belon, where the world-renowned oysters,
found only in local waters, lived up to their reputation, and then some.

Finally,
late in the day, she rolled into the city of Quimper (pronounced “cam-PEAR”),
which was where she would spend the night.

After
checking in at her hotel, Angie set out on foot for the central shopping
district, which was just a few blocks away. Though the stores were mostly
closed by then, she decided to window shop a little; she could always stop by
in the morning and pick up a few of the things she found to tide her over until
she got her suitcase back.

Just as she
was eyeing up an outfit in the front window of a boutique, her phone rang. Again,
she recognized Daniel’s number on the screen.

“Hello,
Daniel,” she said when she picked up.

“Angie, we
have a problem.” Daniel sounded grim.

“What is
it?”

“Maybe it
would be better if I showed you.” As he said it, Angie’s phone dinged to
indicate a text message had arrived.

She laughed
as soon as she checked it and saw another photo of her suitcase, looking like
it was about to fall off a wrought-iron chair at a sidewalk café. The giant
white sunglasses were back, but off-kilter, and an empty bottle lay on the
table, its neck hanging over the edge.

“Been a
little busy, Daniel.” Angie found a funky red top and shorts she liked and
snapped a shot of them. “Did you Google me?”

“As a
matter of fact, I did,” said Daniel. “And it turns out we already have a
connection!”

Angie
frowned. “We do?”

“I’m a YourWorld
member,” said Daniel. “I’ve been subscribing to your online service for the
past two years!”

Angie’s
face flushed at the mention of her failed business venture. “You were one of
the few, then.”

“Hey, I loved
YourWorld. I think it’s a great concept. I wish I’d thought of it.”

“Trust me,”
said Angie. “You don’t.”

“Are you
telling me there’s no market for a service that tailors a user’s online
experience to match his or her favorite era?”

“Not enough
of a market, in the end. I had to shut it down recently.” Talking about
YourWorld still stung. She’d poured her heart, her time, and all her resources
into it for three years, and it had died an ugly death. She’d lost a lot of
money on it—not all of it, but enough—and now, she was faced with the
prospect of starting from square one again.

“You’re
kidding!” Daniel sounded genuinely disappointed. “But my system customizations
are still active…though I guess I did hack them a little.”

“You hacked
YourWorld? You hacked my service?”

Daniel
chuckled. “Well, I loved the 60’s package, but I wanted a Beatles overlay…and
there wasn’t one.”

Angie
nodded. “Licensing costs were unworkable.”

“Right,”
said Daniel. “So I just hacked together what I wanted with bootleg content. My
laptop and phone are Fab Four all the time, in every aspect of the user
interface.”

Angie’s
eyes widened. “No way! I did the same hack for my personal system!”

“Get outta
town!”

“No, for
real!” said Angie. “I am a huge Beatles fan. Well, until they got all
psychedelic, that is.”

Daniel let
out a shout of dismay. “No, no, no! The later Beatles are by far the coolest!”

“Early
Beatles all the way, man,” insisted Angie. “Back when they were fun
instead of trying to enlighten the world and all that.”

Daniel
laughed. “We are never going to agree on that!”

“We’ll see
about that.” Angie grinned. A later Beatles fan was still better than a non-Beatles
fan, in her book.

“Well,
condolences on YourWorld,” said Daniel. “I still think it rocks.”

“Thanks.” Hearing
him say it made her feel a little better.

“So what’s
next?” he asked.

“Well, I’m
driving to Brest tomorrow, ending up in Morlaix.”

“I mean
your next business move,” said Daniel. “What’s it going to be?”

Angie didn’t
have a good answer, so she changed the subject. “You never answered my
question. What’s Impetuosity?”

“In a
nutshell? This.”

Her phone
dinged, and another photo popped in via text. This time, it was a closeup of
Daniel’s face—his clean-shaven face.

Angie
grinned. “You lost your beard!” She had to admit, she liked the new look. He
was even more handsome without the facial hair—almost a completely different
person.

“Impetuosity
told me to do it,” said Daniel. “Basically, it’s a system that helps
people become more constructively impetuous. It sends them in new directions
and encourages them to do things they might not otherwise do. And that
opens up new opportunities.”

“It’s like
a randomizer, then?” asked Angie.

“Not
really. It’s more complex…more guided. It uses predictive algorithms to
determine possible outcomes, then suggests actions most likely to impact the
user in positive ways.”

“What would
the system suggest I do, I wonder?”

“Easy
enough to find out,” said Daniel. “I’ll set up a free account for you to give
it a try. Username ADuquesne, password SuetheLush.”

“Thanks,”
said Angie. “Maybe I’ll check it out.”

“Go for it!”
said Daniel. “Being impetuous is a good thing!”

***

Dining in
an Indian restaurant after her window shopping excursion, Angie pulled out her
phone and searched for Impetuosity. The restaurant had free Wi-Fi, and she had
a little time to kill until her food arrived, so she figured she’d give it a
try.

When she
got to the site, she liked it right away. The design of the home page was
professional and visually appealing; the content was clear and well-organized.

She went
straight to the login button in the top right corner of the screen and pressed
it. When the login screen appeared, she entered the username and password he’d
given her and pressed the Next button.

Guided by
prompts, she filled in a series of pop-up forms, entering details about her
current activities. She hesitated once, wondering if she ought to be giving out
such personal information…then decided she trusted Daniel. Her gut instinct
told her it couldn’t hurt.

By the time
she’d finished, the system knew she was on vacation, where she was staying, and
where she was headed the next day. The next button she hit was a big green one
called SURPRISE ME!

A moment
later, just as her garlic naan, chicken tikka masala, and jasmine rice landed
on the table in a cloud of fragrant steam, the screen of her phone flashed with
a message from Impetuosity:

Skip Brest.
Don’t miss the Côte de Granit Rose.

Angie
stared at her phone. She’d already decided to skip the Côte de Granit Rose—the
Pink Granite Coast—in favor of some Breton towns further inland. Should she
follow Impetuosity’s recommendation instead?

She
considered it as she dug into the chicken tikka masala. She wasn’t crazy about
letting a website tell her what to do on vacation…but hadn’t she done that
already, consulting travel sites while planning her itinerary?

Maybe being
impetuous for a change would do her some good. Look where being predictable
had gotten her.

She made up
her mind over her gulab jamun dessert—delicious balls of warm dough bathed in
sweet syrup and rose water. Reaching for her phone, she pressed the Yes
button on the screen under Impetuosity’s recommendation.

Congratulations!
said the system. Way to go out on a limb!

***

The next
day, standing atop a pile of pink granite boulders, Angie placed a video call
on her phone. As her finger slowly moved over the keypad, she could barely tear
her eyes away from the view that stretched out before her.

When Daniel
answered, she held up the phone so he could see her. Then she pressed a button
on the side of the device, turning up the volume so she could hear his voice
over the gusting wind.

“Wow,
Angie,” he said. “Google doesn’t do you justice. You’re even prettier than I
imagined.”

“So is this
place, Daniel.” She turned the phone’s camera away from her, pointing it at the
view of the glittering sapphire water rippling far below. “The Côte de Granit
Rose.”

“You’re
right, it’s beautiful,” said Daniel.

Slowly,
Angie panned the phone from side to side, taking in the English Channel and the
pink granite formations bathed in bright mid-afternoon sunlight. She only stopped
when she reached the Ploumanac’h lighthouse jutting from a rocky crag far to
her right, a tower built from what looked like the very same distinctive
granite as the boulders around it.

“Thank you,”
she told him.

“For what?”

“If not for
Impetuosity, I wouldn’t have come here,” said Angie. “I would have missed all
this.”

“So there’s
something to be said for being impetuous, isn’t there? For instance, suddenly
changing your wardrobe to give yourself an all-new look.”

Angie
smiled. Before leaving Quimper that morning, she’d bought several outfits that
she’d seen while window shopping. She wore the funky red top and shorts now and
was glad he’d noticed because she was sure she looked good in them.

When she’d
finished panning across the scenery, she turned the phone toward her and
flipped the camera to selfie mode. “It makes me wonder what else I’ve missed,
all these years. I’ve always been a planner.”

“Nothing
wrong with that.” On the screen, Daniel looked relaxed in a black t-shirt
(store-bought or from a carry-on?). Angie could see from the background that he
was riding on a passenger train, the world whipping past his window in a blur
of green and blue. “But it’s good to roll the dice sometimes, too.”

“But this
is different, isn’t it?” Daniel smiled warmly. “I can tell from your voice. That
place you’re at is special, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Angie
returned her gaze to the view as her brown hair fluttered in the wind. “It
speaks to me. It touches my heart.”

“I
understand,” said Daniel. “I wish I was there with you right now, to share your
experience.”

She hardly
knew him, but she found herself wishing the same thing. It was why she’d called
him, after all…because she’d wanted to share the experience with him. In just a
few days, forced together from afar because of their mixed-up luggage, she’d
started to feel something for him. He’d started to become a part of her life,
in an accidental, unexpected kind of way.

“Wait till
you see Mont Saint-Michel,” said Daniel. “It’s one of my special places.”

“I never
want to go back home.” Angie’s eyes burned as tears welled up. “There’s nothing
for me there. I never made a life for myself. It was always all about the
business.”

“Hey, I’m
sending you a link to a song file,” said Daniel. “Do me a favor and play it.”

The link
popped up on her phone, and she tapped it. Immediately, “Let It Be” started
playing through the speaker.

Angie
almost made a crack about it being later Beatles, but she just smiled
and listened, instead.

“Maybe it’s
time to stop dwelling on the past,” he told her. “Let it be, right?”

Smiling,
she dabbed away tears. She loved that he’d thought to play Beatles for her,
later era or not.

“At least
you’re taking some chances,” said Daniel. “Throwing caution to the wind. Being impetuous.”
He chuckled. “And it suits you. I think you’re a real natural at
it.”

“Well,
thanks for encouraging me,” said Angie.

“No thanks
needed,” said Daniel. “A woman like you, I’ll encourage until the end of the
world.”

“Thanks,
anyway.” She loved what he was telling her. It had been years since she’d
heard words like those from a man she liked…and longer still since she’d said
anything like the next words that slipped out of her mouth. “I’m looking
forward to meeting you in person.”

“That’s
something else we have in common.” He smiled. “And if you’re anything like Sue…”
He laughed. “Well, you might really get carried away, huh?”

She laughed
along with him, more convinced than ever that she was heading for something
good…that she’d done the right thing in coming to Brittany, and getting the
wrong bag at the airport had been a blessing in disguise.

***

That night,
Angie found a room in Perros-Guirec, a little harbor town just up the road. She
called and cancelled her original reservation in another town, because this was
closer…and she felt like it. Who said she needed to use an online system
to be impetuous?

After
dinner in a lovely corner restaurant featuring perfect fresh seafood,
she went for a walk along the waterfront, under the stars. When she came to a
bench, she sat and gazed a while at the full moon gleaming on the lapping bay.

It was then
that her phone rang with another incoming video call from Daniel. Smiling, she
made the connection.

“I love the
moon over this little harbor right now.” She pointed her phone at the water. “It
just makes me feel…peaceful.”

“What a
coincidence. I’m watching the moon now, too. Take a look.”

Turning the
phone, she saw his view on the screen—a boxy cathedral illuminated with bright
floodlights, the moon perfectly positioned between two rectangular towers
jutting from its corners.

“Where are
you?” she asked.

“The city
of Dijon,” said Daniel. “That’s the local Church of Notre-Dame. Not bad, huh?”

“We both
have beautiful views tonight,” said Angie.

“I’d rather
be there with you.” As he said it, a link to a song file appeared on the
screen, and she played it.

This time,
the song was from the Beatles’ early period…and it was beautiful. “And I Love
Her” was one of Angie’s favorites.

Hearing the
music as she gazed at the moon on the water made her shiver with delight. It
was so romantic, being in France, having someone interested in
her, saying all the right things. She felt like she was a million miles away
from her troubles and disappointments back home. She felt like she was on the
verge of something wonderful, something she’d only dreamed of or read about or
seen in movies before.

And the two
of them would meet in just two days. She shivered happily again at the thought
of it, being in the same place at the same time with him.

“Angie,
look.” His face replaced the view of the cathedral on her phone. “I can’t stop
thinking about you.”

Angie
smiled. “No wonder! We’re always on the phone!”

“Exactly,”
said Daniel. “And each time we talk, I fall for you a little bit more.”

Good. Angie had never
been the type to fall for someone easily, but she felt the same way. She wished
she could be in Dijon with him right now, or he could be on the waterfront with
her in Perros-Guirec. Against all sense and propriety, she wanted so badly for
them to be together that she was thinking about scuttling her plans and running
to his side the next day.

“I’m so
glad I came to France,” she said softly. “I almost didn’t, you know. I had my
doubts.”

“It’s funny
how things work out,” said Daniel. “I almost didn’t pick up your bag at the
airport. I thought Impetuosity was broken and steering me wrong.”

At first,
the full meaning of his words didn’t register with Angie. She was feeling so
good, the night was so perfect, and she didn’t really want to spoil the
mood.

But then it
sank in, and her heart sank, too. With her thumb, she hit the on-screen button
to stop playing the music.

“Wait.” She
frowned at his beaming face on the screen. “You were using Impetuosity at the
airport?”

He was
still smiling, but he looked a little frozen. It was then she realized that he
hadn’t meant to say what he’d said. “Just a little.”

“Uh-huh.” She
took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She hated where this was going. “And
you were using it when you picked up my bag? It told you to pick up my
bag instead of yours?”

He
hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, I trusted the system. And I’m glad I did. Aren’t
you? It brought us together.”

“Why didn’t
you tell me about this until now?” asked Angie.

“It never
came up,” said Daniel.

“Or you
knew how I might react.”

“That’s not
it,” said Daniel. “All that matters…”

“All that
matters is you let me think the bag switch was an accident,” said Angie. “Like
fate or luck or whatever had brought us together. But all along, it was some system
you designed. There was nothing lucky about it!”

“Angie,
wait. It was lucky. I didn’t know I’d get your bag, or that you’d
be so…”

“Enough!” Angrily,
she hung up the call and switched off her phone for the night.

Then, with
the full moon hanging in front of her, and its twin bobbing on the bay, she
slumped on the bench and cried quietly.

***

The next
morning, after a breakfast of coffee, croissant, and rich local butter in the
hotel dining room, Angie put on the green-and-yellow sundress from the shop in
Quimper, put gas in the Citroen, and hit the road.

She drove
along the winding route that hugged the coast, cruising past spectacular
scenery—but its beauty was lost on her. The rocky shore, crashing waves, and
perfect aquamarine sky were nothing but background noise as her conversation
with Daniel from the night before reverberated in her head.

She was
more hurt than angry now, and regretful. She’d really come to like Daniel, and
she’d looked forward to meeting him in the flesh. But now she knew that a
crucial detail of his story—their story—had been left out. Fate
hadn’t brought them together; Impetuosity had.

It was a
detail he’d conveniently omitted until last night. Now that she knew it, she
felt like she couldn’t get past it.

Angie
blamed herself almost as much as she blamed him for it. She wasn’t a stupid
person; she’d never been inclined to be taken in by smooth talkers and phonies.
But this time, she’d let herself believe. She’d let herself overlook the
trouble signs in his account.

As she
drove on through Paimpol and St-Quay-Portrieux, the dazzling scenery continued
to slip past her. Stunning vistas of bright blue sky and sapphire sea wrapped
the horizon, immense and magnificent…but she was too haunted by the wreck of
her once-blossoming romance to appreciate them.

Though she
hadn’t come to Brittany in search of love, she felt robbed now that it seemed
out of reach. She found herself wishing that she’d never picked up the wrong
bag at the airport or had those phone conversations or given him the slightest
inkling of how she felt. She even found herself wishing that she’d never come
to Brittany in the first place, as necessary as it had seemed to her sanity
after the collapse of her business.

Near
St-Brieuc, the phone rang on the seat beside her. It was him, calling on
the audio line.

Angie
glared at the phone, feeling an impulse to heave it out the window. Also
feeling the urge to pick up and hear what he had to say.

In the end,
she just let it go to voicemail. Why let him aggravate her further right now? She’d
have to see him soon enough at Mont Saint-Michel, to get her bag.

If she even
went there at all. Abandoning the bag was an option, too, if she couldn’t stand
the thought of ever seeing him again.

Just after
St-Brieuc, she saw a chance to break away. A nearby highway, if she took it,
would carry her south to the city of Rennes instead of northeast along the
coast toward her next stop, Saint-Malo, and eventually Mont Saint-Michel. All
she had to do was head for Rennes, pick up more clothes there, and leave Daniel’s
bag somewhere for him to find. She could text him the location, then block his
number and move on, forgetting he ever existed.

As she
approached the roundabout that would lead her to Rennes, her phone pinged as
Daniel sent her a text. She almost didn’t look…then reached for the phone and
glanced at what he’d sent: a link to an unlabeled song file. Curiosity got the
better of her, and she touched the link to hear what it was.

“We Can
Work It Out” played over the phone, and she didn’t switch it off. The message
wasn’t lost on her.

Neither was
the fact that the song was by their mutual favorite band…and it wasn’t just any
Beatles song. “We Can Work It Out” was a product of the group’s middle
period, the time of Rubber Soul. It was as if he was offering to meet
her on middle ground instead of giving up and letting go.

Angie
frowned as she got closer to the breakaway point. The song kept playing, and
she wondered if there might be a chance for her and Daniel after all—or, at
least, if she wasn’t ready to count him out entirely yet.

Heart
pounding, she rolled into the roundabout. All she had to do was get off where
the Rennes sign pointed, and she’d be on her way. Problem solved—and he
deserved it, didn’t he? How could she reach out to someone who’d connected with
her under false pretenses?

Just as she
was about to make the jump to Rennes, however, her phone pinged again. She
quickly read the words of Daniel’s latest text.

And she
suddenly had second thoughts.

At the last
second, she passed the Rennes turn-off and continued around the roundabout. The
turn she finally took fed onto a two-lane coastal road instead of the highway,
keeping her on her planned route and away from Rennes.

She wasn’t
sure exactly what she’d do in the end, when she got to where she was going. All
she knew was that she wasn’t angry enough to bail out now.

And there
she was, rolling toward Cap-Frehel and more of the breathtaking scenery. Also
rolling toward Mont Saint-Michel and Daniel Rivers, as his last text glowed on
the screen of the phone in her hand:

I would do
it all again if it led me to you.

***

The phone
rang three more times that day, but she never answered it. How could she, if
she wasn’t sure what she might say to him?

She thought
she should still be angry at him, but what if he had a point? What if the
details didn’t matter so much as long as two compatible people found each
other?

She was
more confused than ever by the time she got to St-Malo, where she’d be spending
the night. At least there were enough distractions in the seaside town to take
her mind off things for a while…to give her enough breathing room that she
could decide if she would meet him or flee the following day.

After
checking in at her hotel, Angie didn’t waste any time before she struck out on
foot for St-Malo’s main attraction—the walled city. It was just a few blocks
away along the waterfront, a remnant of the town’s medieval past.

She watched
it grow larger as she got closer, the tall gray battlements banked around
spires, turrets, and towers. A muddy tidal basin sprawled before it, empty now
but sure to fill with seawater soon enough.

She
marveled at the sight—the walled city, the forts on little islands further out,
the sparkling waters of the English Channel further even than that. Her
curiosity drew her closer, driving her to explore this magical place she’d
studied and dreamed about.

Entering
the nearest gate in the walls, she found herself walking on cobblestones,
gazing at shops and restaurants in tightly-packed buildings that looked much
the same as they had centuries ago.

She
instantly loved the place. Crowded, ancient, noisy, and smelling of cooked food
and the sea, it made her feel like she’d stepped back in time.

Caught up
in the waves of chaotic energy and sensory overload, she drifted down the busy
street between the inner surface of the wall and the first row of buildings. Barkers
with sandwich boards called to her from the doorways of restaurants, shouting
the merits of the dining experiences to be found within. Men and women sold
treats, beverages, and souvenirs, much as others like them must have done ages
ago on the very same polished cobbles. Performers clowned and sang and played
instruments, filling the air with music and drawing applause.

Angie
beamed and gulped it down, losing herself without a second thought. She was
bumped and jostled repeatedly, but didn’t mind a bit; it was all just part of
the timeless, restless tide of humanity.

It didn’t
bother her, either, when someone tapped her on the shoulder from behind. Who
knew what opportunity she might find when she turned to see who wanted her
attention?

When it
came to opportunities, though, it certainly wasn’t any she might have expected.

As soon as
she turned, her heart raced, and her breath caught in her throat. A familiar
sight awaited her, standing alone amid the crush of the ever-passing crowd.

It was her
suitcase.

***

Someone
bumped the bag, and Angie caught it by the handle before it could fall. Then,
holding tight to the case she’d thought she might never see again, she stood on
tiptoe and scanned the crowd.

Daniel had
to be there somewhere. The bag hadn’t materialized on its own.

He’d known
she was coming here; she’d told him. He must have cut short the rest of his
trip and raced up from Dijon—on high-speed rail, perhaps—to return her
property.

And then,
he’d vanished in the crowd. He’d been right there, behind her, just
inches away…and he’d run off. Why stay, after he’d made her so angry that she’d
stopped taking his calls? Why risk upsetting her more, when he could just give
her back her bag and make his escape?

Frantically,
she looked for him, gaping at the sea of bobbing heads in all directions. Towing
the suitcase, she backtracked the way she’d come, peering at every face,
window, and side street.

With every
passing moment, she grew more desperate. It no longer mattered how he’d come to
swap bags with her; she didn’t care what he had or hadn’t told her about the
secrets behind their connection. She just wanted to see him in person. To hear
his voice, strong and near, undiminished by the speaker of a phone.

To work it
out between them, the way the song he’d sent her had said. That was what
she wanted; she knew it now without a doubt.

Suddenly,
she had an idea. Stopping in the middle of the street, she grabbed her phone
and dialed his number.

No answer.

She tried
again…and again, there was no answer. Was he abiding by the radio silence she’d
made it clear she wanted to keep? Or what if he just hadn’t heard the ring in
the chaos of the walled city?

One more
time. She dialed, impossibly tense…impossibly anxious to find him, even
after everything.

This time,
he did pick up. “Angie?”

Her heart
leaped when she heard his voice, but she didn’t give him a chance to say more. “Look
for the light!” she told him. “Follow the light!”

Switching
her phone to flashlight mode, she raised it overhead. The bright flare beamed
from her screen like a beacon, blazing above the crowd, signaling to the one
and only person out of those thousands she wanted to see.

She turned
slowly, shining the light from left to right in a solitary sweep, calling to
him. Calling to a man she hardly knew but had a feeling about, a man who might
be worth knowing in spite of his mistakes.

People
bumped her, but she kept the light steady and high. She felt as if it were part
of her, reaching out, lighting the way after a lifetime of hiding.

Just as her
arm started to feel tired, just as she thought about giving up, she heard his
voice…not over the phone. She heard him calling her name from not far away, and
she quickened.

He burst
out of the crowd in front of her, grinning and breathless. “Angie!” He looked
at least ten times more handsome than he ever had over the phone, wearing a
brown tweed sport coat, brown trousers, and a white button-down shirt without a
tie.

Any doubts
she might have had swirled away on the breeze as soon as she laid eyes on him. “Thank
you for bringing Sue!” She patted the top of her suitcase.

“I didn’t
ask,” said Daniel. “I just got here as fast as I could and hoped for the best—which
is exactly what I got.” He gazed at her, eyes flashing with open appreciation. “Finding
you in the crowd was tricky…but I guess it was meant to be. I guess it was
fate.”

“This time.”
She smiled.

He smiled
back and nodded. “I’d do it all again, you know.” He shrugged. “If it led me to
you.”

“Bastard,”
she said, but she was still smiling.

Feeling
impetuous, though without an app in sight to point the way, she hopped forward
and kissed him on the lips.

Grinning,
he held up his phone and played a song on it—later Beatles, but Angie didn’t
mind.

People
flowed around them like a river as “Something” played on his phone and he
kissed her back, Sue the suitcase resting between them where she belonged.